Chapter 8 - THE QUESTION VANESSA COULDN’T ANSWER
I met Vanessa at our marriage counselor’s office.
Not at home.
Not around Mason.
She looked exhausted.
I placed photocopies of Emily’s journal entries between us.
Vanessa read them.
“I apologized for that comment.”
“You told a five-year-old another woman would eventually be the mom of his house.”
“I was trying to prepare him.”
“You weren’t dating me.”
“No.”
“So why were you preparing my son for you?”
Her face changed.
“I wasn’t.”
“Then for who?”
She had no answer.
The counselor asked whether Diane had encouraged her to imagine a future with me.
Vanessa looked embarrassed.
“Yes.”
“How early?”
“Before Emily died.”
I closed my eyes.
Vanessa immediately added, “I never acted on it.”
“I believe you.”
She seemed surprised.
That was important.
I wasn’t going to invent an affair because betrayal sounded more dramatic that way.
Then I asked the harder question.
“When did you decide Mason was stopping us from becoming a family?”
She looked away.
“I never decided that.”
“You discussed him living with Mom during the week.”
“Because we had no space.”
“He has a bedroom.”
“You know what I mean.”
I did.
No emotional space.
No marriage where Vanessa didn’t share me with a grieving child.
No home where Emily’s memory wasn’t visible.
Vanessa began crying.
“I have spent a year living inside another woman’s house.”
“It’s my house.”
“You know what I mean.”
Then she said something brutally honest.
“Every time Mason looks at me like I stole something, I feel like I have to prove I belong.”
“And removing him proves that?”
She didn’t answer.
That was enough.
I told her the separation would continue.
She looked at me.
“So he wins.”
My stomach dropped.
Not our son needs help.
Not I went too far.
He wins.
May you like
I stood.
The marriage had just become something I could no longer protect without betraying Mason.
